


Favors

by OneThousandCuts



Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: A happy ending in one manner of speaking but not another, Cunnilingus, F/F, Generous favors meets poor communication, angsty smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25218427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneThousandCuts/pseuds/OneThousandCuts
Summary: Jessie helps Tifa take the edge off from her pre-mission nerves. Tifa quickly learns she's misread the situation.
Relationships: Jessie/Tifa Lockhart
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	Favors

Locked away in the supply closet behind the bar, Tifa braced herself against its back counter, tightly gripping its edge. Her skirt rested on the floor around her ankles. Kneeling before her, Jessie buried her face between her thighs in its place, her tongue quickly, delicately stroking her.

Tifa let out a small, breathy gasp to let Jessie know she'd worked up a good rhythm. "Just… like that…" she whispered, lightly brushing her bangs back from her face.

Jessie gave her hips a small, affirming squeeze.

The door handle jiggled. "Hey, you two in there?" Barret called out.

Tifa clenched her teeth and rolled her eyes. Why now, of all the times? It was a close call timing-wise to their last pre-mission strategy session, but not _that_ close.

Undeterred, Jessie kept up her pace, though Tifa could almost swear she felt her smile. "Ah--yeah," she said, tightly curling her toes and leveling her voice as much as she could. "Jessie's…just helping me with some new equipment. It's…ah, technical stuff. We'll be out soon."

"Alright. Don't waste time. We still got plans to go over," Barret replied.

"Right," Tifa shot back, and sucked down another ragged breath. She didn't dare exhale until she was certain he'd walked away, afraid of other noises that might escape her too soon. Ironically, fear of getting caught made her even more sensitive. "Almost, a little more..." she murmured.

A few long laps later, her body's reserve tension gave out. Her legs trembled, and helping her along, Jessie pressed two fingers into her, gently motioning against her front wall for her to come. Intimate muscles undulated, contracting in waves of sweet, tense warmth around them, ending in climax of delightful electric spasms.

Tifa pressed her lips tight, repressing a moan. It was so frustrating that she couldn't just let loose and scream--whatever tricks Jessie knew with bombs, she knew her body's even better. They'd hardly been in here for five minutes, and they'd only done this --what?--it was only twice before, and she'd caught on to exactly what she needed. Tifa flushed harder while her insides continued to twitch, still remembering the late night two weeks ago when, at the end of a long conversation about how badly these missions unnerved her, Jessie made an offer. It was almost embarrassing, how dense she'd been at first. As with anything else, it wasn't as though Jessie had been subtle about it, but she'd made her spell it out.

Tifa didn't think she'd be up for more than one go--she'd tried helping herself to little effect--but something about someone else, someone who could read her well, unraveling her to take the edge off was more comforting. The kind of apprehension she felt before a mission was by far the dirtier secret, and Jessie seemed to get that.

When she'd finally come down and her breathing calmed, Jessie stood. "There. All better?"

"Yeah, I think I'll be alright. But, uh…"

Jessie leaned forward into her, reaching behind her for a bottle of water and a pack of mints. "Sorry, Tifa. You know I hate to leave you hanging with just one, but Barret's in a some kind of a rush. He won't leave us alone for much longer."

"Do you think he'd care?"

"It's hard to say, but I wouldn’t want to explain it because we got caught while he was this wound up himself. Lucky for him he can use that kind of energy," Jessie replied.

Tifa glowered, wiping away the excess moisture between her legs with a paper towel before pulling her clothes back on. "Someday I'll figure it out. I just…need to keep thinking about the big picture. I'm sure it'll get easier."

Jessie sucked in a gulp of her water and popped one of the mints she'd retrieved into her mouth, a coy smile playing around her lips. "Well don't feel like you have to try too hard."

Tifa softly laughed at that. "Thanks."

"Jessie, hurry it up. We gotta go meet up with the new merc!" Barret announced.

Tifa flinched. She hadn't been sure if or when Barret might include him. This was sudden. The unease she'd just released threatened to return in full force.

"Hey, looks like you might be able to sit this one out. You knew this guy, didn't you?"

"…Yeah, Cloud, from a long time ago. We were just kids," Tifa replied.

This was good. This was a good sign. Now she'd be able to watch him, because something wasn't quite right. At the cost of bringing him into Avalanche, but what other choices did she have? No one else was supposed to have survived Nibelheim.

"I'll let you know how he does," Jessie said, the warm playfulness she usually affected in the aftermath all but completely gone, and turned away.

Tifa nodded, but stayed behind. The closet suddenly felt suffocating and tiny. She knew by the change in Jessie's voice this was probably the last time they'd meet up back here. She'd allowed herself to believe for the barest of moments that maybe Jessie was doing more than just generous favors. That maybe she was doing this because she cared, but the second it looked like Tifa was no longer obligated to go on regular missions, it was as though the temperature between them had instantly dropped.

In reality, she was a weak link, and Tifa knew it. Her time with Jessie was friendly, but it wasn't personal, and what they did didn't mean anything beyond making sure she was functional when they needed her to be. 

She blinked back the urge to cry. She had no right to feel sorry for herself; to feel this hurt and let down. This was just life here in the slums. People did what they needed to get by, and most of the time it was much more about affirming life and surviving than who anyone loved or cared about. If you wanted something more than that, it was on you to speak up--not that she was good at it--and even then it wasn't always a great idea.

Disappointment was normal here, and heartache a waste of time.

She'd been right before: There was a bigger picture to worry about than how she felt, and there was too much going on to think about what she'd privately hoped for. 


End file.
